


What's In A Name?

by GloriaVictoria (orphan_account)



Series: My Promising Career in Espionage [2]
Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 12:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/GloriaVictoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Q uses Bond's given name for the first time, it changes everything...and yet things are still, strangely, the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's In A Name?

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the My Promising Career in Espionage series of drabbles centered around 007 and Q's daily life.
> 
> EDIT: I took out the letter at the beginning of Q's "mystery name", mostly because it doesn't matter for the purposes of this fic. His name can be whatever you like.

Strangely, not knowing Q’s name didn’t seem to impede their relationship, despite Bond’s initial reservations. What was in a name, anyway? Obligations, ideals, a family mythos that followed you constantly, never giving you a moment’s peace—he knew that feeling all too well. Perhaps that was why Bond preferred his code name to his given one: in his business, anonymity was power. Not to mention that it rolled delicately off Q’s tongue; not so delicately in bed, but that was another matter entirely. Bond never gave the issue of names much thought at all, at least not until, on a typical day by all accounts, Q changed the game.

“Just up ahead, James, you can’t miss it.”

“…What did you say?” Bond had been seconds from kicking open a door when he realized what his quartermaster had said. It took nearly as long for him to notice his mistake, and he quickly stuttered an apology.

“007, of course. Forgive me. Just ahead, like I told you.” Bond turned his attention back to the task at hand, but even while he cleared the room of thugs with his typical precision, he found himself thinking about it: Q’s voice, speaking his name with such ease. He had enjoyed it more than he had expected…yet he could not do the same. For the first time, he found himself burning to know Q’s true name…and he was determined to find it out.

* * *

“Of _course_ I can’t tell you,” Moneypenny crossed her arms and let out an exasperated sigh. “And no, I most certainly cannot go digging through his confidential files for you.” Bond frowned in disapproval, but Moneypenny paid him no mind. “If you want to know his name, then _ask_ him. God knows you have plenty of opportunities.” She was one of the few agents who knew the nature of Bond and Q’s relationship, and despite her prudent secrecy, she never lost a chance to tease him about it.

“Well, you’re terribly unhelpful.” Bond left her office and carded his hand through his shorn hair. Certainly, he could ask Q for his name…and then what? Best case scenario, he’d tell Bond and the carefully-woven trust between them could be damaged. Worst case scenario, he shattered it forever and everything he had worked so hard to achieve would vanish. That was a feeling he couldn’t abide again, for he’d experienced it enough in his life.  

He walked to Q Branch apprehensively to retrieve his repaired gear for the upcoming mission. Q sat primly at his desk, rising when Bond approached.

“Ah, you’ve finally made it. Get lost?” 

Bond smirked sardonically. “Very funny. You have my things, I hope?”

“Naturally.” Q dug into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a small lockbox, handing it to Bond with the tiniest of smiles. He did not mention his little slip-up the week before, not even during his nightly visits to Bond’s flat, and he could only assume that Q had forgotten; he could only hope that he could do the same. “Here you are.”

“Thank you much. It wasn’t too damaged, was it? I _did_ try to be careful.” Q shook his head, straightening his glasses.

“It was fine.” Before Bond could turn and leave, Q took his free hand and squeezed it. “Do…do be careful, James.” He spoke quietly, his smile wavering ever-so-slightly. Several of the younger branch interns shot their heads up to watch the exchange, and Bond’s own brows arched in surprise. So he _had_ remembered, after all.

“I…I will.” Q nodded sharply and returned to his work, and Bond wandered back to the door, still rather taken aback. Shaking his head, he made his way to the parking lot; as he walked he peeked inside the lockbox and stopped in his tracks. On top of the new pistol and radio sat a small card of soft paper, upon which was written in Q’s hand:

 

_Your new weapon._  
 _Wishing you the best of luck._  
 _Don’t die, you oaf._  
 _Yours, -------._

Bond smiled and ran his thumb over the card, pressing it to his lips. He supposed that there _was_ something to names, after all.

 


End file.
